Still Waiting
by Aries Zodiac
Summary: Three years ago, four brothers went out and never returned home. Their father still waits and hopes. This is Splinter's story.


**_Waiting_**

_Vaguely inspired by the whole notion of the Fast Forward episodes; what if Splinter had been left behind? Now I know (thanks to the wonderful wiki) that he went with them but the idea stayed. It has nothing to do with FF now, really.

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I wander the Lair. For the thousandth or perhaps millionth, time, I retrace my path through this empty home, hearing my pawpads echoing faintly and counting the little _clack clack _noises of my cane as it taps the stone floor. Funny how it used to reassure me with its rhythm. I accepted that my running days were over for the most part and I would always need this walking aid. Now I hate it. It reminds me of the infirmity that meant I could not have been with my sons when…when what?

When _what_?

_What has happened to my children?_

I remember when the four of them went out of the Lair that time, Raphael chasing my errant youngest, fist raised. Goodness knows what my mischievous Michelangelo had done to enrage him; he is-was?…**is **endlessly inventive that way! Followed by a most reluctant Donatello, who resented the time away from something that was nearly working- I have been into my son's inner sanctum many times, the mysterious laboratory from within which my precocious child created many of the machines that helped our lives down here. And my eldest, responsible Leonardo, having seen them all leave, glancing back at me in the way he does, reassuring me without words that he will look after my children. I haven't seen them again.

Three years.

It was just a nightly patrol, nothing important. The machine-monster that was once a man called Oruku Saki is dead and a temporary truce with his daughter, Karai, seems to hold. I do not like the child but I do not believe in this case she had anything to do with it. Once I feared for my eldest son regarding her. Although, I see some of him in her. Perhaps he does too. I wonder if Leonardo had been brought up under that monster's control…? Perhaps if she had been brought up with my sons? I shake my head. Such pointless musings can do nothing but help drive me mad.

Ms. O Neill did what she could to help. She's a good girl and she often comes down here, but there's a limit to how long she can be here and anyway, I think she senses that part of me gives up every time I hear footsteps in the tunnels outside and then it's not them. She could be like a daughter to me but…she cannot replace the ones I have lost and I don't have the will anymore to risk this pain again. She put her life in danger chasing down clues and hints to my sons' disappearances; the Foot, the Purple Dragons, the remains of Stockman Enterprises and it's successors, she investigated them all zealously and, while she succeeded in bringing things to light that landed many bad characters in prison and helped make the streets that much safer…she did not find my sons.

My footpaws automatically turn right, following a pattern that has become a deeply ingrained habit. Donatello's inner sanctum, the place where my gentle, quiet son found his freedom in creating machines and letting them talk to him through their strange patterns of wires and rules that I never understood but didn't need to. My son, what has happened to you in the last three years? Have you continued your machines? Do you still try to learn all you can? I have never met anyone so determined for information, so hungry for knowledge. Have you pulled away from the others? I could always see you giving up the life of the Ninja and devoting your life to study and I give you my blessing in that. You have always been a good student and you work hard to gain knowledge which helps your family. That is why you are medic and technician. You were always the quiet one here, a peaceful influence on the exuberance of your younger brother, restlessness of the older one and the determination of the eldest. But you have a strong will of your own. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to you. But you always were a very self-contained child and seems happiest when figuring out problems on your own. I wish I could make sure you knew how much I love you, my son!

I put down the little machine my second youngest had been working on before he left and leave the room, claws clicking and cane tapping off the ground, shutting the door behind me. Now I move down the hall and up the steps to the bedroom where my angry son hid himself so often.

Raphael was not a leader but he was a natural second in command. My son hadn't quite accepted this yet when last saw him although I do think he knew it inside. That lay behind some of his apparent antagonism towards his older brother. Raphael was searching for himself, feeling like perhaps al the other 'places' had been taken, leader, brains and confidante and goofball and source of fun were already 'taken' by his brothers and so he fell into 'angry'. He feels things deeply and the negative emotions of how the humans in the world above felt about us all affected him perhaps more then any of the others. Have you found balance in the time you have spent away? I am sure you still quarrel with Leonardo and challenge him. I hope so- you do him good! Brave spirit, but flailing about for direction. My still wild warrior son. Have you found what you were searching for? When you come back, I wonder who will I see? The brave son Raphael I know is there, whom I have seen many times over the years- fiercely loyal and protective towards his brothers, caring and not afraid to say what he feels after thought. Or will I see the son I also know and love as well, as impulsive, angry and lost as he may sometimes seem. You are another to whom I don't know whether I said it enough so I can only hope you know.

I step backwards out of the sparsely decorated room and move to the one next door, a garishly childish orange colour, bright and cheerful in a way that you would not expect anything connected with the word sewer to be! Carefully rescued posters adorn the walls and the prize possession of my youngest child sits on the bed, a battered Walk Man, I believe it is called. It plays what I still don't entirely accept as music.

Michelangelo is not what you would call a tidy person as his room would, I'm sure, show if I hadn't drilled neatness into them all right from the beginning. Even after sixteen years of training, I can see the bottom lair of a potential avalanche poking out from under the closet door, a tatty comic book page. Although I could never tell the ages of my children and am inclined to think of them as much of a muchness agewise, Michelangelo was always my baby. Part of it is his personality- he is the natural 'youngest' child. Always liked to surf the top layer of life but occasionally capable of coming out with something that shows there is more there going on behind the mischievous brown eyes then pizza and the next prank. He is the one I feel was most accepting that he was loved- he took it as his due and showed affection and love back to his family freely and unselfishly. Which makes it difficult to stay angry at him for long! I wonder what has happened to you also, my youngest? Are you still content to follow, let others make the decisions? You will hold your own when you need to but too often you have taken the easiest route. But I know you have it in you to take responsibility and show yourself the mature adult you can occasionally be. I wonder, when you walk back in will you grin sheepishly, and offer the undoubtedly strange explanation for your absence, trying to head off any potential anger directed at any of you. Will you bounce like a happy puppy and hug me exuberantly like you often do? Or will that innocence have been crushed out of you like it has Leonardo and Raphael and even gentle Donatello? I feel that the day you are responsible and serious will be the day that I lose the last of my children. And part of me hopes it doesn't happen. But however you are, come back, my youngest child!

I have no tears left. They were wept a long time ago. Now I have patience and serenity around me like a protective cloak. I know it unnerves Ms. O Neill who thinks that you are all dead and that I am in denial. But I am not delusional. I have faith in you all. The door closes behind me as I walk into the dojo and sink down into a creaky cross-legged position and drift into a meditative state. Here I am closest to my eldest.

Leonardo, my calm ninja son. The truest student I have ever seen and with the potential to be the greatest ninja who ever lived. But he doesn't study all for himself. I know the burden of leader falls on him heavily. I know he trains so hard to eliminate all failings and weaknesses in himself, to be as perfect a warrior as he can be to protect his brothers and if possible, offset their weaknesses. He pushes himself to new limits every time he trains and I know it has taken its toll in other ways. He sometimes forgets that he doesn't have to bear it alone. I pushed him into the role of leader although he would have never been anything else. Pushed him into a place that would cause him mostly pain and fear, sleepless days and nights filled with training and striving to be as good as can be and that came with a cost against his soul. I took his childhood to save them all. I won't be around forever and I need to know that they will have someone to look to.

So how will you have changed, leader-son? You are the reason I have such strong faith that you will all return to me safely, no matter how long it takes. That look you gave me just before you walked out the door and vanished from my life that said you would do anything to protect them. Will you be the same serious, responsible eldest child, still searching, like Raphael in a way, (to whom you bear a definite resemblance to in personality I'm sure you'll both thank me for saying!), for something just out of reach? Will you have learned to accept your brothers contributions and let them make their own mistakes and bear their own consequences? I know how tempting it is to get between them and what will harm them when they wander seemingly blithely into danger but they have to accept the consequences of their own actions and learn from them themselves. You are still my son and it hurt to see you forced to grow up so fast, faster then the rest in many ways. Hurt to see you lose your child's innocence about the world. But I have always been proud of who you are and I hope you know, like your brothers how much I love you. No father could be happier or prouder in his eldest child.

My pilgrimage ended for now, I wearily get to my feet and ears prick up as I hear footsteps outside. For one second only I allow myself the joyful rush of hope that it is my children coming back to me but I know better even before April O'Neil's voice asks me am I here with the deeper undercurrent of Mr. Jones' speaking. I can smell something delicious and my stomach rumbles rather to my embarrassment. She is very kind about bringing me food and she is a very good cook. I have grown particularly fond of her mysteriously named Shepard's Pie! As I return to the lonely current world and away from the one that contains my missing sons, I allow myself a few more fleeting thoughts before going to greet my guests properly.

I could have gone to the Ancient One or back to Japan, back then. As a matter of fact, I did go to the Ancient One for help. He was typically ambiguous. I had forgotten just how maddening it is to be the one being taught the lesson by some cryptic hinting and councils of patience. But he seemed to think there was a reason behind everything. Even if I don't want this lesson it appears I must learn it.

As for Japan? America is, well, it has been a place to live, but I never felt my home to be here. At least, I didn't think so for a long time. I always thought I would go back one day somehow but I doubt…I couldn't leave now. What if they came back and I wasn't here? But I don't want to go now anyway. Now, too late, I realise that home is where my children are. They are not in Japan. And they are not here either. So for now, I wait and wander around the Lair, this underground sewer pipe where the waste is thrown from the world above. It is only a shelter now but I live in hope that some day it will be a home again.

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Haven't decided yet whether this is a one-shot or not. shrugs Could currently go eiher way. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

AZ


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